


Unwanted Guests

by Sunnyrea



Series: The War [17]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Historical, Lams - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyrea/pseuds/Sunnyrea
Summary: Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens with the rest of George Washington's staff welcome the return of General Charles Lee to Valley Forge, Lee taking over the room Laurens and Hamilton shared, bringing dogs and other surprises with him. What excitements may ensue or losses be endured?[Part of a series but can be read as a stand alone story]





	Unwanted Guests

Alexander Hamilton stands outside General Washington’s headquarters at Valley Forge. The air has a chill to it but not a bite or threat as the long winter had only weeks ago. The snow has melted for the most part and with the arrival of April, the entire encampment seems to come alive once more as if from a dream. Perhaps nightmare is more apt a word with the amount of men lost. Hamilton, however, will not think on that now. 

Now, Hamilton waits beside John Laurens and Tench Tilghman for the arrival of General Charles Lee. General Lee was recently released on parole from British capture in Philadelphia. Their fellow aide–de–camp, Richard Kidder Meade, was sent ahead to escort the General on his ride from the city to their encampment. Though parole does not usually allow soldiers to return to military service and action until fully exchanged, General Lee appears to be allowed some dispensation. Hamilton has heard whispers of Lee’s good relations with British officers but he knows little else at present. There can be no doubt, however, that Lee makes his way to Valley Forge without any subterfuge or cheat as soldiers and officers from camp have been sent forward to line the road for two miles to welcome Lee’s arrival.

“Any sign of the General yet?”

Hamilton turns to Robert Hanson Harrison on the top step of headquarters behind them. Hamilton shakes his head. “None yet, but I should imagine not long until we do.”

“I believe I can hear cheering in the distance,” Tilghman remarks.

Hamilton sees Laurens give him a look but says nothing.

“Do you?” Harrison frowns. “Perhaps it is my age that I cannot.”

“You are of an age with me,” Tilghman remarks looking nonplussed.

“But you have not had the experience of daughters to wear your hearing,” Harrison says.

Tilghman huffs once while Hamilton raises his eyebrows. He sees Laurens look away toward where the party should come from.

“He is not wrong,” Laurens says. “I hear some noise of men far off now too.”

“Well,” Hamilton glances up at the sun, “it should be the right time.”

“Shall I tell the General?”

Hamilton shakes his head at Harrison. “He need not wait outside yet. We shall inform you when we see Gibbs.”

Hamilton turns back around fully, hearing Harrison close the door behind them.

“As though His Excellency may truly accomplish work with the knowledge of General Lee’s approach,” Laurens remarks.

Hamilton glances to Laurens on his left. “He and Harrison may still arrange the General’s lodging for the night.”

“No,” Tilghman says. “They decided just this morning. He is to stay with us.”

“What?” Hamilton says just as Laurens replies, “Here?”

Tilghman nods once, still watching the road. “Yes, he is to commandeer the smaller bedroom for his stay though it should only be a few nights.”

“The smaller room,” Hamilton repeats.

“You mean our room,” Laurens says.

Tilghman finally looks at the pair of them. “I believe Harrison is still managing some shifting as to where you two shall be placed in the interim.”

“And should we not have been consulted?” Laurens says tersely across Hamilton to Tilghman on his other side.

Tilghman raises both eyebrows. “Oh? Should you think to have changed the decision?” Tilghman gestures over his shoulder to the house. “As though we have not moved for guests before, now it is your turn.”

Laurens huffs. “Perhaps I would wish a voice in where I might be billeted when forced out.”

Hamilton puts a hand on Laurens’ arm. “Do not fear, Laurens, I doubt they shall put you in a far cabin across camp.”

Laurens purses his lips. “That is not my concern.”

Hamilton smiles at him. It has been more pleasing than he may adequately express to be given a room to share with Laurens, a bed even, as the room has little space for more than the one. The other three aides are afforded two beds to split between them in the larger aide–de–camp bedroom but Hamilton and Laurens have no qualms about their smaller shared space. Indeed it has been a joy to wake each morning to Laurens’ face on the pillow beside his own, lips parted, hair a mess, and the first opening of his eyes, the way he smiles at Hamilton in the early sunlight.

“Hamilton?”

Hamilton realizes he stares at Laurens. Laurens’ lip quirks up slightly but Tilghman does still stand beside them and soon they must play hosts once more.

Hamilton turns back to the road. “We shall sleep where ever Harrison and the General deem fit to place us.”

“In the barn, perhaps,” Tilghman says

Hamilton knocks his boot against Tilghman’s and the man chuckles. “Keep as such and I shall find a way to steal your bed all for myself.”

“Ha.” Tilghman cocks his head and shoots Hamilton a look. “I should take my blankets with me if you attempt so and then what use would this new bed be?”

“I should still have the pillow.”

“Would you?”

Laurens leans forward enough for both men to see him. “Are you both quite finished?”

Hamilton only grins while Tilghman laughs. Before they may continue their banter, however, Hamilton sees Caleb Gibbs riding toward them from the road, two members of the lifeguard in seat flanking him.

“I shall go,” Tilghman says, turning and hurrying up the steps.

“We do love our ceremony,” Laurens says quietly.

“Most militaries do.”

“And a homecoming after capture should deserve some pomp.”

“And circumstance.”

Hamilton and Laurens glance at each other with matched smiles.

“Gentlemen, at attention, please.”

Hamilton straightens up, hand on his sword handle, as General Washington steps past them to stand at the front of the party. Tilghman slides back into place beside Hamilton while Harrison stands a step closer to His Excellency, though not quite beside him. The whole party waits silently as Gibbs draws near. 

They soon see, behind Gibbs, more men on horses, Meade among them and the man who must undoubtedly be General Lee. Some common soldiers follow the men on horseback. Hamilton thinks, ’like a parade’ but says nothing. Gibbs and his life guard turn out wide into the grass as Lee, Meade and Lee’s aide–de–camp continue toward them. Gibbs cuts behind the man of honor and encourages the following soldiers back toward the main encampment. Hamilton smiles to himself, would not want the common man to cause any fuss among the officers. 

As they near, Hamilton notes the red sash across the General’s somewhat ample waist. One might expect a man to seem more lean after capture but perhaps the British retain some civility when it concerns enemy officers. His coat also appears to be in want of a good brushing and his waistcoat an iron as the wrinkles can be seen at this distance. General Lee’s cravat would also do well with a bleaching and a better knot. Hamilton, however, decides many a solider in their army now looks worse.

It is then, as they are near enough for Hamilton to read a few words such as ’Washington’ and ’pleased’ on Meade’s lips, that he notices the dogs. At least three dogs, as far as Hamilton counts, follow the men on horseback. He believes one to be a greyhound, another of smaller size and one larger with so much fur one might mistake him for a bear.

“Baron von Steuben shall like him greatly,” Tilghman says quietly near Hamilton’s ear, clearly noticing the dogs as well.

Hamilton does not in general find such animals to be something offensive but he also wonders at how much necessity they bring to men at war. The horses draw up and stop just yards away as the servants of the house bring blocks for the men to dismount while others see to the two horse and men bringing the General’s belongings. The dogs skirt around the feet of the servants, sniffling and pawing, one barking quietly, so one man nearly trips backward over General Lee’s animal companions.

As the General dismounts, Meade and Lee’s aide behind him, Hamilton notices something furry in Lee’s one hand, almost like a muff. Then the furry item moves and the face of a fourth dog appears with an excited bark. The dog is small as a cat, light brown and its fur sticking straight out from its body in a manner like a bird fluffing up its feathers. Hamilton cannot be surprised the General chose to carry this dog for how could it ever keep up with the horses on such short legs?

“Now, Spada,” The General practically coos. “Do be polite.”

Laurens stiffens beside Hamilton and Hamilton fears, for a moment, Laurens may actually make some disparaging noise aloud by the nauseated expression Hamilton catches across his face before Laurens is able to school his features once more. General Lee hands the small dog to his aide–de–camp as he approaches His Excellency. Meade hands off his horse to a waiting servant then hurries around behind the General next to Tilghman.

“I have stories for you all,” he whispers so only the four of them may hear.

Then the Generals shake hands.

“Welcome back to the American lines and Valley Forge, General Lee,” His Excellency says.

General Lee smiles wide. “Thank you very much, General Washington. A pleasure to be back. And thank you for the wonderful reception.” They drop their hands and Lee gestures behind them. “Troops for miles cheering us on, quite a ride! And the men all looking much better than I heard, don’t you say so Edwards?” Lee claps a hand on his aide’s shoulder making the dog in Edwards’ arms shift around.

“Yes, sir,” Edwards replies blandly.

“Heard some bad whispering about the winter here, wasn’t the best under guard either of course, but I certainly ate, I can say that.” Lee laughs once and Hamilton clenches his jaw.

“Indeed the winter was difficult for us all,” General Washington says, his voice controlled as ever.

Hamilton wishes he could see more of the General’s face where he stands but no doubt His Excellency would betray no ill feelings if he should have them.

“My military secretary, Lieutenant Colonel Robert Harrison,” The General gestures to Harrison then turns to the other four behind him. “You have met Meade, and my other aides–de–camp, Lieutenant Colonels Tilghman, Hamilton and Laurens.”

Each man nods once and Hamilton sees Lee’s eyes sweep over them with very little concern about their faces or names. Hamilton feels less surprise than perhaps he should.

Lee turns back to General Washington. “My aide–de–camp, Evan Edwards.” Then his smile widens and he rubs a hand over the head of the dog. “And this is my dear Spada! He is quite the clever dog. Pomeranian, you see.”

The General stares for a long enough pause that Hamilton can guess at a particular line of words the General would rather use than then, “Ah, yes,” he does say.

Hamilton hears Laurens make a quiet groaning noise in the back of his throat.

“Say hello, Spada,” Lee says and the dog makes a sound not quite a bark or a growl but oddly similar to the noise Laurens just made.

General Washington clears his throat. “A fine dog. I have some myself at Mount Vernon.”

“A shame not to have them here,” Lee says with a grin he must believe is companionable but comes off more manic. Then he gestures to Edward. “Come come, do introduce.”

Edwards hands the dog back to Lee. Lee shifts around Edwards to the four aides–de–camp in a line, stopping at Laurens on the end. “You must all say hello.” 

Lee shifts the small dog around so its back feet stand on his one arm, then Lee holds out one of the dog’s front paws to Laurens. Laurens stares at the dog, eyes wide and his hands clasped very firmly behind his back. Hamilton feels Tilghman shift close enough that he may tap his one hand insistently against Hamilton’s. Hamilton hears Harrison make a noise as though he wishes to interrupt but does not know how.

Meade, ever the sweet but too far joker, says, “Yes, do say hello, Laurens.”

“I do not... should you wish...”

“Why shake hands, Lieutenant.” Lee says, his expression oddly joyful, as if a father proud of a son. “Spada is the most respectful dog.”

Hamilton wonders wildly if he should push Laurens aside and take the dog’s paw first, if only due to the stiff strained expression on Laurens’ face. Hamilton opens his mouth to say something fast and smart about the nature of hunting dogs and Baron von Steuben’s own pack, when Laurens whips his hand up, grips the dogs paw once and shakes fast. Then Laurens drops his hand and grabs it behind his back again. Before Hamilton can think to laugh or congratulate Laurens on his feat of dog paw shaking, General Lee and his tiny dog step in front of Hamilton.

“Say hello, Spada.”

Hamilton stares at the small creature, its tongue whipping out to lick its nose and its small eyes staring up at him. Hamilton thinks Spada looks more like a large rat and a Persian cat formed a new being into the world than a dog. Hamilton clears his throat, glances at His Excellency behind Lee. General Washington’s shoulders appear stiff and he looks somewhere to the right of the whole affair. 

Hamilton smiles slowly and pulls up his hand. He grips the dogs paw, shaking it up and down a couple times. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir, and what an honor to have you at our encampment.” He pulls his hand down and leans over just a touch toward the dog. “Welcome to the army. Good dog.”

Hamilton hears Meade squeak, luckily hidden by the sound of Spada barking in appreciation at the same time. As General Lee moves on to Tilghman, Hamilton sees Harrison grinning clearly despite his best efforts not to behind the General. Laurens taps his foot against Hamilton’s so Hamilton turns his head just a fraction to see Laurens’ face, Laurens’ eyebrows high and his jaw very tight. Hamilton only grins slowly. If Lee is going to force them all to shake the paw of a barely dog, then Hamilton is most certainly going to mock him for it. Hamilton turns his head back to Tilghman now, shaking the small dog’s paw as the dog licks Tilghman’s fingers.

“Ah, you he likes,” Lee says as Tilghman lets go.

Tilghman nods, his smile too wide. “I have a way with all God’s creatures, sir.”

“Quite a way,” Meade mutters.

Lee nods back at Tilghman and breezes past Meade with a, “you two have met.”

Hamilton and Tilghman both glance at Meade. Meade gives them a look which speaks of quite a story behind it. Then Lee walks around in front of General Washington once more. His Excellency’s visage appears for all the world that nothing out of the ordinary for the army or the modes of polite society has occurred. Lee looks at Harrison and General Washington for a moment but clearly chooses the more prudent option of not asking the commander of their entire army to shake a tiny dog’s paw in greeting.

Lee hands the dog to Edwards once more, the man looking as though he has held the dog more in his life than he has any other object or person.

“Well,” General Washington says. “I am pleased to see you in good spirits after capture and hope to hear anything you may have learned in your time away.”

“Ah,” Lee says, his expression drawing back in some manner Hamilton finds to be illicit. “Yes, well, I may, yes...”

“Tilghman?” General Washington says, gesturing toward the barn.

“Sir.” Tilghman moves away quickly toward the barn.

“Might we not take you on a tour of the encampment while your room is readied? We are preparing a room for you within my own headquarters for your stay.”

Lee grins wide. “Why thank you for the honor, General Washington.”

Hamilton hears Laurens make a noise and Hamilton purses his lips himself. It is not as though he did not know that at some point their room should no longer be theirs, be it from leaving the encampment or guests. In fact, it is a surprise they have resided in it together for such a long stretch without interruption. Yet to be forced to give their precious sanctuary to a man Hamilton increasingly finds to be out of his personal favor grates at his nerves. 

Tilghman appears then, the General’s horse in hand. The aides step forward with the servants to help General Washington, General Lee and Edwards back into seat.

As Edwards steps to his horse, he suddenly turns, says a quick “if you may,” and thrusts the small dog into Hamilton’s hands.

Hamilton nearly drops the dog with its kicking feet and its desire to lick his person. Hamilton shifts his head quickly out of the line of fire, knocking into Laurens in surprise. Laurens grabs Hamilton’s shoulders to balance him. The pair of them stare at the squiggling dog which Hamilton cannot decide to be excited at new people in its proximity or filled with a desire to run away.

“My god...” Laurens mutters near Hamilton’s ear.

“Oh, you shall hold it next time,” Hamilton hisses back.

Then Edwards calls down from his horse. “If you would not mind, Lieutenant Colonel?”

Hamilton looks up from the fluffy creature to Edwards holding two hands out for the dog. Hamilton gladly passes up the dog, unable to miss a last lick from the dog right across his nose. Hamilton groans in the back of his throat and quickly wipes a hand over his face. He turns to the rest of the party to see Meade holding in laughter, clearly at Hamilton’s expense. Hamilton raises a disdainful eyebrow at Meade.

Harrison stands on his block to join the party when General Lee exclaims, “Oh now, as much as I am certain your Harrison here is a pleasant sort, I so enjoyed your Lieutenant Colonel Meade’s company. He must join us, must you not, Lieutenant Colonel?”

Meade’s expression freezes in surprise for a moment then he smiles appropriately as Tilghman claps him hard once on the back. “Of course his should; our Meade is the most amiable of men.”

“Yes, sir. I should be glad to,” Meade says, trading places with Harrison and climbing into seat.

General Washington nods at the aides still standing on the ground. “Gentlemen, if you will arrange for the General’s room to be prepared.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the men chorus.

“And do keep an eye on the others,” Lee says as the horses turn about.

“Others?” Laurens asks in confusion.

Edwards gestures toward the other three larger dogs now following the servants carrying the General’s personal items into headquarters. 

“Watch, Caesar,” Edwards says. “He scratches at anything in sight.”

Then Edwards turns his horse and the party trots off toward the main body of the encampment.  
The four remaining aides stand in silence as the horses disappear from sight and all the servants finish carrying the baggage into the house and storing the wagons, until only they four alone stand out on the green.

“And that, sirs,” Harrison says finally breaking their vigil, “was General Charles Lee.”

“Dogs...” Tilghman says.

“How is it possible a man such as that is a General in our army?” Laurens says low and harsh.

“He did ensure the fortification of Chares Town and has the experience from when in the British army,” Harrison says. 

“Perhaps he should have stayed there,” Laurens snaps back then scoffs again. “Pompous.”

Tilghman chuckles and whispers again. “Dogs...”

“We must give him credit for his trial of enduring British capture,” Hamilton says magnanimously, cocking his head toward Laurens.

Laurens turns a scathing look back on him. “Oh yes, as though he alone has borne it and as though his condition was one so terrible? That man?”

Hamilton smiles slowly. “Hmm, yes, I imagine a cozy apartment with only two rooms, how grave.”

“Gentlemen....” Harrison says warningly though his tone clearly betrays a desire to join their jest. “He is a popular General in our army and has no true mark against him in his actions.”

“I have heard rumor of his opinion of General Washington, no doubt you all have,” Laurens says. “His cuts against His Excellency and of his own superiority over General Washington’s due to his experience in war because of his British service and we must now bow and praise him with so little battles to his name?”

“He served in the war with the natives as did General Washington,” Harrison tries.

“Spare me, sir,” Laurens says. “We know our war a different kind now and that man...” Laurens huffs. “I shook a dog’s paw now. You saw this. I cannot fathom!”

Tilghman breaks out laughing finally, gasping. “Dogs, a dog. Did you see its fluff and a bark of the most minuscule sound? More a chicken perhaps than a dog!”

Hamilton laughs once. “Not a chicken, Tilghman, can the dog lay eggs?”

Laurens groans loudly.

Hamilton laughs again. “And Laurens, should you not feel honored to shake its paw first of us all?”

Laurens glares at him as Hamilton grins at his expense. “As though you were pleased by such degrading an action.”

“Oh, I plan to make the dog and General Lee respond for each second of their actions in any way I am able.”

“I would remind you all,” Harrison says, “General Lee is our superior officer, and though he may have his eccentricities, you cannot claim any man to be devoid of some flaws.”

“Some,” Laurens mutters.

“We all serve our army in our manner and General Lee will no doubt continue to do so.”

“Even in such a manner and dress,” Tilghman mutters. 

Laurens glares toward Harrison. “And with his known dislike for our Excellency?”

Harrison frowns and turns back toward the house. “As long as he completes his duty.”

“And brings his dogs.” Hamilton quips.

Harrison sighs. “Enough now, we may all have opinions but we must do our duty first and prepare the house and for dinner this afternoon.”

“Oh and our usual work,” Hamilton replies. “Of course, how wonderful to have guests to steal our time.”

“And our room,” Laurens says quietly, as Harrison and Tilghman move ahead of them toward the house.

Hamilton sighs as they walker slower, a chance to speak privately on a day when they will be allowed little time alone. “We knew it should not last.”

Laurens looks down at their feet. “I know.”

Hamilton brushes his finger tips over the back of Laurens’ hand briefly. “It has been a pleasure and a gift but we shall be no less in each other’s company.”

Laurens looks up at him. “I know this but I should wish you...” He smiles. “I should wish you closer still than our aide–de–camp desk.”

Hamilton smiles back. “I know.”

Laurens sides steps so his arm presses against Hamilton’s then they reach the stairs and climb toward the door.

“But to give it over to...” Laurens makes a noise like a growl. “I have heard from my father of Lee’s attempts before his capture to put his own name forth in place of his Excellency’s to command the whole of the army. Do you know this?”

Hamilton raises his eyebrows. He had heard rumor but with Laurens’ father as President of Congress, Laurens would no doubt hear more detail.

“We must not dwell on this now.”

“Hamilton...”

“We must only move forward as our position allows.”

Laurens looks at Hamilton as they stand outside the aide office. “And?”

Hamilton smiles slowly. “And perhaps find ways to speak and debate circles around Lee when offered the opportunity.”

Tilghman appears in front of them suddenly. “Do stop plotting and help. There are dogs.”

Hamilton glances into the aide office and sees the greyhound lying by the fire while the smaller one, a bulldog perhaps, he is not certain, scratches at one table leg. The third dog he does not see.

“And what should we do with them?” Laurens asks.

“They cannot stay in the house,” Harrison says from inside the aide office, looking down at them with some confusion.

“Do you not suspect General Lee will ask for just that?” Tilghman says. “All the dogs at the foot of his bed or perhaps guarding at his door?”

Harrison looks up. “He could not expect that, certainly not?” He moves to the scratching dog and nudges it with his foot so it stops and looks up at him with a bark. Harrison frowns. “We must be allowed some mandates within our own headquarters.”

“You may try,” Tilghman replies.

“Sirs.”

The three men in the hall turn to Lady Washington entering headquarters from the back entrance. They all nod, finally removing their hats as they should have earlier.

“Madam,” they echo together as Harrison joins them in the hall.

Lady Washington brushes some dark hair behind her ear as she removes her straw hat. She glances around and taps a pale glove against her hat. “I am afraid I appear to have missed the arrival of General Lee.”

Harrison nods. “Yes, ma’am, he and General Washington are now touring the encampment.”

She smiles, giving her hat to Laurens when he offers a hand. “I see.”

“But his furry companions are with us,” Tilghman says.

Lady Washington frowns at him. “I fear to inquire.”

“We have a number of dogs among us now,” Hamilton supplies.

Lady Washington’s eyebrows rise and she nods. “Ah well, some men find comfort in their presence and easy loyalty, I am sure.”

“We had wondered,” Hamilton starts with the luck of the moment. “If they should be allowed indoors or perhaps given their own quarter elsewhere?”

Lady Washington shakes her head, pulling off her gloves. “Certainly not in the house. We give quarter to enough rabble here as it is.”

Tilghman laughs as she gives the men before her a sly smile. The smile reminds Hamilton of just one of the many reasons he likes this woman, a wit and boldness just within the lines of propriety.

“I think the four legged troop should have their own accommodations. Perhaps Captain Gibbs could accommodate them in some way, within the guards cabins? Or even quartered with the horses?”

“We can determine where they should go outside the house,” Harrison says turning back into the aide office to attempt to wrangle those in question.

“You are our savior, madam,” Laurens says honestly.

She smiles at Laurens then looks at the other two. “We women do have some sway over the houses we manage.” She glances into the aide office. “And if we should have dogs within I should prefer to have the choice of them and not from a passing General who should make an effort more to accommodate those who host him.”

Hamilton raises his eyebrows and suspects this woman knows even more than himself or Laurens on the nature of General Lee.

“Now,” Lady Washington says. “I shall leave the dogs and house to you while I arrange the dinner with the servants. I shall be pleased to see you all at table this evening.”

“And we you, ma’am,” Hamilton says, all charm and, in this case, genuine feeling.

She nods once more, then moves toward the side door which leads to the kitchens. Laurens takes Hamilton’s and Tilghman’s hats to hang up with Lady Washington’s as the men turn to the office again. Harrison crouches down, trying to encourage the Greyhound to rise. The dog seems far more pleased to stay lounging in front of the fire.

“Where is the third dog?” Hamilton asks. “I did see three upon the General’s approach.”

Tilghman walks around Hamilton and glances into the General’s office. “It was the bearish one, yes?”

“Yes, I thought the same,” Hamilton says as he walks into the aide office and attempts to coax the small, wrinkled dog toward the office door. The dog tries, instead to turn and gain Hamilton’s attention, paws on his boots.

“You do not think it above stairs?” Tilghman asks. “Perhaps it is still outside?”

Laurens moves past the office door toward the steps then suddenly Hamilton hears a loud whistle making himself, Tilghman and Harrison jolt in surprise. He hears the sound of scampering feet above his head and then a clatter on the stairs, just as the other two dogs in the aide office perk up to attention and trot out into the hall. He sees a furry ball of dog drag by the door to the office then skid to a stop, beside the other two dogs waiting near the front door. 

Laurens steps nearer the dogs, whistling once again, his two fingers at his lips. “Come,” he says firmly. “Come now.”

The three dogs cluster tight around Laurens’ feet, all sitting and looking up expectantly.

“My god,” Harrison whispers.

“Laurens...” Hamilton says quietly, a smile growing on his face.

“And what is our decision?” Laurens asks, his eyes still on the dogs, a hand up in the air snapping to keep the dogs’ attention. “Where should they go now?”

“The barn,” Harrison and Hamilton say together.

Laurens glances at them. “Certain?”

“They followed General Lee’s horses well enough. I do not think they will be a harm,” Hamilton says.

“Yes,” Harrison and Tilghman agree.

“Good then.” Laurens snaps his fingers once more and makes another softer whistle with just his lips as he picks up his hat and opens the door. “Come, come.” He opens the door and gestures the dogs out. “Come on.”

As the quartet of Laurens and dogs exit, Hamilton walks out of the office, catching the door before it closes so he may watch them walk on toward the barn. The greyhound stays close beside Laurens’ legs, matching pace with Laurens’ walk. Hamilton imagines the greyhound seated always at Laurens feet, Laurens reading by a fire, Hamilton in the chair across and the dog between them, the sort of dog that would follow Laurens wherever he might walk about their house and always be quiet in his attentions, the most behaved and best sort of dog for a man to have.

The larger dog with the most fur bounds ahead, circling back every now and then, heading butting the other two dogs and even Laurens’ leg as he runs back and forth. The bear–like hound would clearly be the dog which would play most, which would chase the horses Laurens rode, trying to beat the man through the fields and steal Laurens’ shoes or gnaw at the leather of Hamilton’s books or snatch scraps at a dinner table, be he allowed indoors.

The smallest dog, the squished face and shorter legs, lags behind at first, until Laurens turns his head back to whistle at it once more. Hamilton hears, “Come along, little one,” from Laurens across the distance. Hamilton sees this ugly dog as the one Laurens would secretly care for most, to worry at it keeping up when out in the woods or where it might hide about the house, the problem dog with its scratching and mess causing Hamilton no end of headache but a creature that Laurens would not be able to stop caring for even in his remonstrations.

Hamilton thinks, his dear Laurens, still may surprise him as he watches Laurens lead the dogs on, head turning to watch each one, leaving none behind, and smiling despite all their past remarks on these ridiculous dogs.

Tilghman slides up beside Hamilton. “And here we have it, Laurens betrays us with a like for the dogs after all.”

“I think it but one dog we should truly dislike,” Hamilton says as he finally turns back inside, “and that dog is not here.”

“Spada,” Tilghman says with a tone of mock fear in his voice.

Hamilton chuckles once. “Such a dog too. What might it be used for? Not a hunting or herding dog certainly.”

“Why, Hamilton,” Tilghman says clapping his hands together once. “Did you not see? That dog is for carrying!”

“Hamilton,” Harrison says. “As to your rooms.”

Hamilton turns back to Harrison as Tilghman walks around the pair of them into the aide office.

“The garret, I suspected –”

“Not as such,” Harrison says. “Laurens shall move to the attic, yes, but what with your illness some months back, we thought it prudent to keep you in the larger aide bedroom.”

Hamilton clears his throat. “It is April now and has been two months since my fever.”

“Yes,” Harrison says, “But the chill weather still remains, despite April, and many of our soldiers lie ill. We would rather not a risk of your health when the attic above is drafty and brings less comfort.”

“And Laurens deserves this then?” Hamilton says with an edge to his tone.

Harrison gives Hamilton a look. “We could not fit five in our room and someone had to be placed there. You are the two which must move after all.”

“Fitzgerald is not here, we have space.”

“Not five to one room and Fitzgerald will join Laurens in the garret when he returns, whenever that may be. It is still a comfort more than tents or cabins, is it not?” Harrison taps Hamilton’s arm. “The servants should have moved your things by now and I suspect Lee’s stay with us to be short.”

“Ah,” Hamilton says with a frown.

“Take your advantage and feel no guilt,” Harrison says, misreading Hamilton’s hesitation and unease at the new arrangements. “You may win the fireplace and our company but Laurens at least gains a modicum of privacy, does he not?”

Hamilton thinks about the privacy of their own room, a chair under the doorknob and a bed to share, a face to wake up to and a body to hold in the night, more than they could have hoped for before or likely again.

“Yes,” Hamilton says, “he does.”

The door opens then, as Harrison returns to the office, revealing Laurens removing his hat and no dogs around him.

“Were they quite sad to part with you?” Tilghman says from the aide office.

“Despite the General they accompany, they do not seem bad beasts,” Laurens admits.

“Ah, but here we remain surprised as your skill with such beasts, as you say,” Hamilton says.

Laurens nods, hanging up his hat. “There are many animals on a plantation and I am not unfond of them.”

“Oh, yes.”

Laurens huffs and smiles at Hamilton. “Do you think me so a pampered gentleman that I could not manage a few hounds?”

Hamilton shakes his head. “No, no I simply wonder at your pass times before this to be so skilled at such managing.”

“A whistle and commands, that is all they require if they have some training. Luckily, they do.”

“Mhmmm.”

Laurens smiles, shyer. “Now, Hamilton, they are only dogs.”

“Of course, but color me impressed regardless.”

Laurens purses his lips and swats at Hamilton’s lapel, clearly charmed by Hamilton’s teasing and smile. Hamilton wishes he could kiss Laurens now and lie in their bed they need not give up.

“You are to the attic and I the larger bedroom,” Hamilton tells him.

Laurens glances to Harrison in the aide office, cracking open a letter. “Oh?”

Hamilton nods. “Yes, you, it seems, are deemed less susceptible to any cold draft or distance from fire.”

A look of displeasure passes over Laurens’ face before he nods once more. “I see.”

“Gentlemen,” Harrison calls from the aide office. “If you would accompany us poor two back to our desks? We have little time to review what correspondence and tasks of the day we have before we must play hosts for the evening.”

Hamilton and Laurens look at each other then walk into the aide office back to proper work – no dogs or returning captured General just then.

 

The aides spend only a few hours in their usual fashion of letters and reports before General Washington, General Lee, Meade and Edwards return. The Generals retire quickly to General Washington’s office, with Harrison joining them in place of Meade along with Lee’s Edwards.

In the aide office, Meade says in a hush, “Ah the dog, is apparently, my new best friend.”

Tilghman gasps high. “Meade, how could you?”

“I dare say it was not my choice.”

“Where is the dog now?” Laurens asks.

“Yes,” Hamilton says, “is it privy to the meeting next door?”

Meade smiles. “Oh, certainly not, it has far better plans involving rest on Lee’s bed.”

“You mean, our bed?” Laurens says sharply.

Hamilton shoots him a concerned look but Meade and Tilghman are far too amused over the small pup to find any fault in Laurens’ phrasing.

“The dog’s bed more like,” Meade says. “It is to stay the night.”

“He sleeps with the dog?”

“Not in that manner.”

Tilghman huffs. “Oh well, who should know at this rate, what with dogs in the barn and one in house. What if he has hidden more about?”

“Why, Tilghman,” Meade says, “What should our dear Spada say if he should hear you speak thus?”

"Would he worry at competition?"

"I think he has won General Lee’s heart quite enough not to fear being thrown over."

“We must give up our room to a dog?” Laurens hisses low to Hamilton.

“Not our room,” Hamilton says, though his heart feels the same. “A room at headquarters.”

“To a tiny parlor dog,” Laurens hisses again with venom.

Meade points at Hamilton and Laurens suddenly, finishing some anecdote to Tilghman about his journey with General Lee and the waving of the dog’s paw to soldiers. “And you, I hear charmed the other dogs so?”

“Not charmed,” Laurens replies tersely.

Hamilton nods. “Laurens has a way with animals it seems.”

Laurens bumps his shoulder against Hamilton. “Animals of a kind.”

Hamilton forces a look of great dignity onto his face to avoid any possible blush at Laurens’ hidden implications.

“Well, I hope you enjoy an animal at dinner.”

Hamilton and Laurens turn to Meade with matching frowns. “What?”

Meade looks at each man in turn. “Lee has said quite resolutely that the dog, little Spada, should join us all at dinner because he is ’great fun.’”

Tilghman scoffs. "What sort of fun? Does he perform tricks?"

Meade cocks his head. "He can ’speak’ on command. He did so for General Lee in response to the troops lining the road on our long four mile ride."

"And what should he do at dinner?" Hamilton asks. "Shakespeare?"

Meade chuckles while Tilghman looks more concerned.

The room remains silent for a breath then Laurens huffs loudly and says, “What is God’s name is happening?”

 

The remainder of the afternoon lies in finalizing the dinner plans. Invitations are sent around the camp by way of Hamilton and Meade to the other generals to attend.

General Weedon must bow out due to another guest in his own headquarters but General Knox confirms as does General Wayne with a mutter of, “if only to see the man squirm when he tries to speak sense.”

Baron Von Steuben assents to the invitation as long as his aide Benjamin Walker is included so he is not left adrift with his meager English. Hamilton will be quite glad for both their company at table. The Marquis de Lafayette, also confirms his attendance.

“It is a special sort of gathering,” Hamilton tells Lafayette, unable to help himself.

Lafayette looks up from his desk, his aide Gimat lingering conspiratorially at the door to the office. “Oh?”

Hamilton smiles, does not lower his voice so Gimat may hear too. “Yes, we shall all share the table with General Lee’s dear friend by the name of Spada.”

Lafayette frowns, rocking his quill from side to side. “And what sort of a name is Spada? Have we a new officer among the ranks?”

Hamilton shakes his head. “Oh, certainly not an officer, though he does seem as highly esteemed in the greeting he received, or at least those we were forced to give.”

Lafayette puts down his quill and cocks his head. “I begin to suspect you play with me, mon ami.”

Hamilton grins. “Well, perhaps I do, as the Spada we speak of is not so much an officer or even member of the army, as he is a dog.”

Hamilton hears a snort of amusement from the door behind him followed by the quick sound of retreating feet. Hamilton hopes that Lafayette’s office allows just a bit of gossip out.

“A dog,” Lafayette repeats with a quirk of his lip.

Hamilton nods. “A small one.”

Lafayette chuckles. “I am fond of dogs.”

“To share dinner with?”

“Oh well, there can a first time for all experiences.” Lafayette taps a finger to his lips. “Shall it have its own chair?”

Hamilton frowns, suddenly very concerned over the idea. “I very much hope not.”

Back at headquarters, Hamilton assists with the rest of the staff in readying dinner and wrangling the servants. What with their long stay at Valley Forge and the frequency of visitors, the front room of their headquarters was deemed too small for long term entertaining, so a large cabin was erected in the back of the house for future dinning. Now with the weather warming and the snow gone, the cabin may be put to proper use and host the large party of dinner guests for the evening.

Hamilton works with Caleb Gibbs to plan a schedule of guards for the evening for the dinning cabin and some of the area surrounding headquarters. Two at the cabin entrance and another two on the far side should do. Hamilton walks around the back of the house and under the overhang which connects the main building to the kitchen. He wonders at posting a guard here but thinks it likely unnecessary with the other guards so near the dinning cabin.

“Sir.”

He turn around to see a woman near the stairs of the headquarters side entrance.

“Madam?”

She is not one of the two cooks for their house and her dress, though not overly fine, seems a station above the usual camp follower.

“Have you seen General Lee about?” She asks.

Hamilton frowns. “Might I ask who you are, miss?”

She is young, perhaps as young as he, though it is hard to tell with her hair tied back and a shawl high around her neck.

She smiles slowly as he approaches her. “I am a guest.”

Hamilton frowns. “Not of this house.”

“No.”

Hamilton waits but she does not elaborate. “Then whose guest might you be?”

“The army’s.”

Hamilton thinks either this woman over steps or she is an officer’s wife which desires to play games. Did General Lee or Edwards bring their wife with their party? “Miss, speak plainly.”

She smiles, steps closer, and touches the green riband of his uniform. “A lovely shade.” Her hand trails up to his lapels, her nails making small clinks on his buttons. “And what rank does that make you?”

“It is not a indicator of rank perse,” Hamilton says, his eyes drifting to the path of her hand.

Her hand pauses near his epaulets then she pulls back, her finger tips just brushing against the skin of his chin. “Oh yes, of course, not the green but the gold that matters?” She smiles and Hamilton sees how rosy her cheeks are and her teeth look quite well too. She must be young. “I wondered at General Lee’s lodging. Is he to stay with General Washington here?”

Hamilton thinks perhaps she is a camp follower after all? Someone new followed from Philadelphia? Or is the news of Lee’s arrival spread through all of camp? “He is, Miss, but he is engaged for dinner tonight.”

She leans closer, the stairs no longer between them. She touches his hair under his hat. “And how long should that last? My your hair is so red. Irish in you, no doubt. It does well with your bit of green.”

“Oh.” Hamilton cannot stop staring at her lips now that she stands close, full and red and they remind him of cherries he saw once at the General’s table early in the war.

“The dinner?” She asks again, her hand still twisting in his hair, pulling strands free and her smile too wide, yet so fetching on her face.

“It should being at three or four but... last... it should go late,” Hamilton says as he starts to think that she shall ruin his queue. “Certainly. Uh...” He pulls back realizing suddenly he has begun to lean forward. “But I am afraid no other guests can be admitted, Miss.”

“Oh.” She puts a hand to her lips, looks down –a sweet, shy manner abruptly opposite of her wandering hand. “No, I should not impose.”

"Mhmm," Hamilton replies lamely as she looks up at him from under her lashes.

Suddenly, the side door to headquarters opens, Laurens and Meade walking down the steps. “– and the wine shall be, oh... Hamilton?” Laurens stops a step from the bottom as he speaks, Meade bumping into his back.

The woman – Hamilton realizes she never told him her name – leans forward, her lips close but not too close, she quickly touches his cheek then slips into a curtsy. “Thank you so much, sir.”

Then she whirls around and walks briskly away around the front of the building.

“Oh now, Hamilton,” Meade hisses over Laurens’ shoulder. “Is not today a risky day for dalliances?”

“I... was not...” Hamilton says weakly, his cheek burning and Laurens staring at him. Laurens raises both eyebrows and Hamilton coughs into a smile. “Ah.”

“Hmm,” Laurens says.

“Just who was she?” Meade asks as he and Laurens finish walking down the steps next to him.

Hamilton shakes his head. “I am afraid we seemed to skip formal introductions.”

Meade laughs as he moves past Hamilton into the kitchen. “Oh, I am sure, charmer that you are.”

Laurens cocks his head at Hamilton. Hamilton only shakes his head. “Fear not. She was utterly confusing.”

“I find that often with women.” Laurens purses his lips then squeezes Hamilton’s hand. “And I do not fear.”

Hamilton smiles as Laurens moves past him, his hand dragging over Hamilton’s wrist and across his waist before he follows on into the kitchen with Tilghman. Hamilton’s mind strays to other things those hands could do given privacy and space and, in his distraction, promptly writes the woman off as an over eager camp follower.

 

The dinner that evening is sumptuous by camp standards if not by city society. They have wine and rum aplenty, chicken, real beef – not salted and old – baked apples, hazelnuts and flaky sweet breads. General Washington sits at the head with his wife seated at the foot. General Lee sits in the place of honor at the General’s right with Wayne, Meade, Von Steuben, Walker and finally Harrison next to Lady Washington while Lafayette sits at His Excellency’s left with Knox, Tilghman, Laurens, Hamilton and lastly Edwards beyond.

At first, the dinner stays within the usual topics of fears over Philadelphia, the pleasure of Lee returned to them, the weather still cold but not frigid. Once their main meal finishes and they stray into more wine and bits of dessert, the conversation turns.

“And though I know they be our enemies, I found many of the British officers to be most amiable men,” Lee says, a glass half full in his hand. “Indeed, I discussed Congress’ declaration and –” Lees suddenly seems to think better of himself and coughs. “Well, as I mean, only that Gentlemen can be found on both sides.”

“You say ’Congress’ declaration,’ sir,” Laurens says from further down the table beside Hamilton. “Is it not our declaration, the country’s?”

Lee frowns. “Oh certainly, the country’s, and a foolish thing the British think, as they told me, but I did tell them I thought it necessary, as of course it was, but yes, all our declaration.”

“More than necessary,” Laurens replies, that look on his face he used to reserve for their former aide-de-camp and not Laurens’ friend Joseph Reed.

“And what would the British say of our declaration?” Hamilton cuts in. “You say they call it foolish? Is this because they think we fools or they think we foolish to leave their embrace? It may be a thin line to cut but it tells much of how they view us.”

Lee frowns, blinking a few times. “The declaration, they call that foolish.”

“Yes,” Hamilton says, a smile still on his face as he stares at Lee. “But our motives or our actions? Do they think we foolish children they may scold and bring back to them, we only acting out without any genuine thoughts behind our cries, or do they think us adults, foolish in our intellectual disagreement with their laws. I would say that if they only cry fool to our thoughts and beliefs we have the better of them. A child they may coddle and wish to educate; a foolish adult they will treat as inferior and if a man thinks you inferior, a fool, it is easier then to surprise them when you are not a fool.” Hamilton takes a sip of his wine. "And we are not fools in either manner."

“And we have done so,” General Wayne says in to the gap Lee leaves, gaping at Hamilton’s philosophy. Hamilton turns to General Wayne as Wayne grins. “They thought we would cry and run after months and it is years now, yet here we still sit and fight.”

“Barely so,” Knox says, “with this winter.”

Most at the table make noises of agreement.

“All the more reason for a swift resolution!” Lee says with renewed vigor. “If we can mediate a truce we –”

“Truce!” Wayne snaps. “Good god man, just returned and you are thinking we capitulate to them now? What did they say to you under guard?”

"I formed better relations..."

"So you think surrender?" Knox asks in place of Wayne, pointing with his rum glass.

“I do not mean surrender but –”

“But what do you mean?” Wayne growls once more.

“He means he wishes to be the man who would bring England to the table of truce,” Hamilton says, twisting a hazelnut between two fingers. “If a peace could be made by paper instead of sword?”

“Would that not be so faulty?” Lee asks indignantly.

“A fault may lie in giving way to concessions the British will no doubt wish to impose upon us,” Harrison says, from down the table.

Lee snorts. “It would be a peace negotiation; both sides and no country at war could expect not to lose something in so dramatic a conflict.”

"Except perhaps the victors," Meade quips.

“But to abandon our fight and all we have gained," General Washington says, an edge to his tone that hushes the whole table. "Just for the ease of a bartered peace?” 

Lee frowns deeply, arrogance in his countenance. “I only wish to end the war favorably as we all do.”

“Favorably,” Laurens echoes with a tone of clear derision.

“Yes,” Hamilton says, “Favorably to who?”

“Gentlemen, enough.” All the heads at the table turn to the one lady present of Lady Washington. “I understand all your passions and the trials of this war. But perhaps now we may breathe easy and enjoy what remains of our dinner?” She smiles. “I would prefer my table be one of cheer and not malice, may I ask this?”

General Washington holds up his glass, the aides and the Generals in seat following as if on a string at his pull. “To my wife, a woman who may command Generals and silence even such small wars.”

Lady Washington smiles at him as the men echo 'Lady Washington’ around the table and drink.

“Ah then, Madame Washington,” Lafayette says with pleasantness and charm in his tone. “What should you wish we speak of? We could most easily speak of your charms and accommodating house here even among the bitterness of an army encampment.”

Lady Washington smiles appropriately. “I need not be your subject, Marquis.”

"But such a grand subject you are!" Knox says.

The Baron echoes something in German which Walker translates and Harrison comments on, Lady Washington shaking her head but with a smile. Conversation starts to split apart among those seated near each other.

Laurens turns to Hamilton. "I could think of charms to speak on."

Hamilton smirks and picks up Laurens’ wine, taking a sip. "Oh? A turn of phrase perhaps?"

"And beautiful eyes," Laurens says low so only Hamilton may hear."

Hamilton smiles more, pressing his knee against Laurens’ under the table. "Is that all?"

Laurens takes his wine back. "An unparalleled skill to confound guest Generals?"

Hamilton nods, taps a finger once on Laurens’ forearm, as much as he might dare at table. "I like ’unparalleled.’"

Laurens drinks his wine slowly. "In many ways."

Then a yipping noise interrupts the scattered conversations. Hamilton and Laurens both look down quickly in alarm, nearly spilling wine, but General Lee picks up the small dog before anyone else may worry about it being underfoot.

“Spada!” Lee laughs. “Cannot miss the party, can you?”

Tilghman shoots a look at Meade across the table so the other man grins wide but hides it in his glass quickly.

“The dog,” Laurens whispers making Hamilton pinch his leg.

General Wayne turns to Meade seated beside him with a look of confusion.

Baron von Steuben says, “Sehr klein.”

“Very small,” Walker repeats, shooting a look at Hamilton.

Comments spin around the table, Knox and Tilghman say something about dinner parties and the army usually not being one to change conventions. Walker tries to translate between Wayne and Von Steuben as Steuben gestures to Lady Washington and the dog, hopefully not in comparison, while Lady Washington asks Harrison just what type of dog it is.

Hamilton hears Walker say, “ladies and dogs do not mix.”

Then Hamilton sees Lee suddenly hand the small dog across the table past General Washington into Lafayette’s hands. Tilghman makes a high choked off noise, turning away quickly to laugh almost into Laurens’ hair. 

“The devil man!” Wayne says sharply beside Lee, picking up the carafe of wine to refill his glass.

Knox snorts. “Do love your dogs, eh?”

Lee chortles loudly as he feeds the dog in Lafayette’s hands a scrap of meat still on his plate. “How can a man not love such creatures?”

Harrison’s eyes widen and he turns to Lady Washington next to him but they only look at each other in confusion. Edwards on her other side picks up another hazelnut and seems to avoid all eyes. Laurens grips Hamilton’s hand for a brief moment under the table while Hamilton cannot stop staring at the dog wiggling in Lafayette’s hands.

“Oh, we are more relaxed now,” Lee says dismissively to no one in particular. “The lady has commanded it and I do promise Spada’s table manners impeccable.”

“And just how often do you find him at table?” Laurens says brusquely.

Lafayette looks at the dog, holding it against himself with one arm and patting its head. The dog wags its tail against the table happily.

“Oh, doux petit garçon,” Lafayette says.

Suddenly, the dog starts barking at Lafayette, loud and sharp, it’s teeth barred. Lafayette jerks, nearly dropping the dog on the table in surprise. “Dieu!”

The dog barks more and nips toward Lafayette’s face. General Washington suddenly scoops the dog out of Lafayette’s hands, shoving the dog toward Lee with one hand as it barks on while keeping the other on Lafayette’s hands flush against Lafayette’s chest and completely off the table.

“Spada!” Lee cries as Edwards jumps up from the other end of the table.

“Is that a bark?” Wayne cries in disbelief.

“General Lee, I believe you spoke of table manners?” His Excellency says, keeping one hand firmly on the dog until Edwards comes around the side of the table to take the dog away.

Hamilton and Laurens lean slightly over the table to see better the fluster of Lee attempting to coo over the dog, Edwards to take it away and General Washington to keep the dog well clear of Lafayette.

“Did he bite you?” Hamilton asks.

Lafayette shakes his head as General Washington finally pulls his hand away from Lafayette’s. “No, near, but he did not.”

“Such a little dog still with teeth?” Meade says with raises eyebrows.

“Größe bedeutet nicht alles,” the Baron says making Walker cough and shake his head hard when Hamilton looks at him to translate.

“I must apologize,” General Lee says. “Spada is usually a gentleman.”

“A dog,” Wayne mutters.

“A gentleman dog,” Tilghman says with a grin at Lee.

General lee purses his lips. “Perhaps the Marquis is not as skilled with animals as he is in most things.”

Lafayette frowns. “I cannot think how I would have offended it.”

“Offended dog,” Meade whispers across the table to Tilghman. “Shall he howl all night?”

“I wonder, sir,” Hamilton says, “what did your British captors think of your Spada? Does he charm both sides of our war?”

Lee looks at Hamilton in something like alarm. “Well... I should think a good dog able to warm to most any man.”

“But perhaps less so when passed across a dining table?”

Laurens starts to shake with controlled laughter beside Hamilton. Hamilton smiles slowly at Lee’s frown. 

After a pause where Walker whispers to the Baron, Knox calls for more wine and Harrison attempts to distract Lady Washington with conversation about Virginia, Lee finally says, “Well, Spada is a good dog.”

Hamilton raises an eyebrow and Lafayette makes a mildly offended noise so Lee clears his throat in obvious embarrassment.

General Washington says. “But I think he will not join us for dinner again.”

Hamilton grins.

 

The dinner ends soon after Lafayette’s near miss of a dog bite, sending the Generals to their respective rooms, aides to ensure the house shut down for the evening and servants to clean everything left behind. Tilghman is sent to escort Edwards to a bed with the life guard as temporary housing, while Lee and the Washingtons retire for the evening.

“And not a mark on you,” Hamilton says to Lafayette as he leaves back to his own headquarters across camp.

“If we should meet again I may leave a mark on him,” Lafayette counters.

Hamilton gasps. “And I thought I should never hear you say something cross except in the matter of battle. Yet here you threaten a wee pup?”

Lafayette tips up his head loftily as he doffs his hat, “Mon cher, it is a battle now.”

Hamilton climbs upstairs after Lafayette leaves, the candles out on the first floor and all the bedrooms closed up. He hears Meade speaking softly, Harrison’s low reply. Hamilton lingers at the door. Tilghman is yet to return, his bed for Hamilton to share. Why should he try to sleep now when Tilghman will only wake him upon his return? Hamilton looks at the stairs up to the third floor. He sees the faint glow of a candle still lit at the turn of the steps. Hamilton smiles to himself then walks up the stairs.

Laurens turns his head where he sits at a folding desk as Hamilton reaches the top step. He puts his pen down and props his head on his hand. “You should not be up here.”

Hamilton shrugs once. “I merely visit.”

“To say goodnight?”

“Hmm.” Hamilton walks close and stands beside Laurens. “To visit.”

“And what if I should need to sleep?”

Hamilton cocks his head and runs his hand up Laurens’ cheeks, into his hair, runs his thumbs over Laurens’ forehead until Laurens’ eyes close. “I could watch you, hum you a tune or read you verse until you sleep soundly.”

Laurens chuckles quietly. “Keep me awake more like with wishing to hear your voice.” He opens his eyes. “Do you try to distract me so now?”

“I do not think so.”

“No?” Laurens teases, his hands sliding over Hamilton’s hips.

Hamilton sighs. “No, I only think how...” He rubs a line over Laurens’ brow, past his eye and down the path of his hairline to the corner of his jaw.

“Think how?” Laurens coaxes.

Hamilton rubs his thumb over Laurens’ lips, thinks of Laurens’ closed eyes and head on a pillow. “I think how I have not slept without you beside me in months and how should I do so now?”

Laurens sighs and tips his head forward to rest against Hamilton’s stomach. “We were lucky to have that.”

“Yes.”

“And may again,” Laurens looks up. “Lee shall not reside here indefinitely.”

Hamilton smiles back at him. “No, he shall not.”

“He and his dog.”

Hamilton chuckles. “The hound of hell perhaps.”

“To Lafayette at least.”

“To all.”

Laurens sits up straight once more, looks Hamilton up and down. “Sit then.” Laurens takes Hamilton’s hands from his face. “Sit and stay with me a while, I have only a few lines left in this letter.”

Hamilton looks down at Laurens, his coat off and no cravat now, his eyes darker in the dim candle light. Hamilton’s list twist and his fingers twitch. Hamilton shifts one leg around, slides forward the other and sits astride Laurens’ lap. Laurens sits up straighter in surprise, gives Hamilton room, his hands gripping at the small of Hamilton’s back immediately. Hamilton bumps his nose against Laurens, kisses his lips once hard.

“That is not what I meant,” Laurens says, his voice hitching as he kisses Hamilton again.

“I know,” Hamilton says.

“You cannot stay.”

“I know.”

“All those below us are –”

“Quiet, dear John, or how should I kiss you?”

Laurens turns his head and Hamilton kisses him once more, grips Laurens’ jaw with both hands. He tastes the wine still on Laurens’ tongue, feels his lips press hard and insistent like a prelude to more naked passions, their kissing deep and messy with teeth and tongue. Until they are not, until their kisses become slow and sweet and tired, lips only and Hamilton nuzzling his nose into Laurens’ cheek, Laurens trailing his fingers up in Hamilton’s hair with one hand. Hamilton rubs his thumb over the vulnerable space of Laurens’ neck. He kisses Laurens cheeks, kisses his lips again, saves up kisses for the morning when he shall wake with only friends around him and not this dear one beneath his legs now.

“Ah, Alex, my boy,” Laurens whispers into kisses. “Even alone here I shall think of you.”

“Yes, mere hours in the night without me. I do pity you.”

Laurens chuckles, nips at Hamilton’s lower lip.

Hamilton laughs once, eyebrows high. “You take a lesson from the small dog.”

Laurens snorts, grins and drags his teeth over Hamilton’s lip again. “I did not need that lesson.”

Hamilton kisses him softly. “You did not.”

He wants to stay here, hands on Laurens, so close to something more, looking down at blue eyes and blond hair and the familiar lines of his John’s face. Who cares for propriety or the army or the country when he can kiss these lips and rolls up his hips just so to hear Laurens gasp?

“Do not begin what you cannot finish,” Laurens whispers, his one hard gripping harder down on Hamilton’s thigh.

“Hmmm, “ Hamilton hums. “If I but could.”

Laurens kisses him once more. “Yes.”

Then far below, they hear the sound of the front door, an open and a softer close. Laurens looks up at Hamilton’s eyes – so blue when he sits close. Hamilton kisses Laurens’ lips once more, saves that feeling for the night and morning and longer day.

“That will be Tilghman,” Hamilton says. He stands up from Laurens’ lap with some reluctance. “My new bedmate.”

“Lucky him.”

Hamilton chuckles. “Not exactly.”

Laurens nods, “Good.”

Hamilton smiles and squeezes Laurens’ hand. “Rest well.”

“Good night,” Laurens replies, a sigh in his voice, as Hamilton steps back toward the stairs.

Hamilton turns all the way down the two flights until he reaches the bottom floor. Tilghman turns his head from where he hangs his cloak and hat. “Hamilton? Not asleep yet?”

“I thought it needless to try when you had yet to return.”

“I would not have woken you.”

“I know not by intention.”

Tilghman nods. “Ah, well then, shall we sleep?”

Hamilton looks at Tilghman, thinks of the bed they will cram into together and feels far too awake now.

“I think I shall work on the official exchange for General Lee. Better to have it done lest the British try to reclaim him.”

Tilghman frowns. “You need not do so now, so late. And we do not truly fear such, what with their ease of returning him still on parole with the assurance of the exchange.”

Hamilton nods. “I know, but I think I would prefer my pen a bit more tonight before I sleep.”

Tilghman makes a face but walks on past Hamilton. “Then it shall be your task not to wake me.”

Hamilton nods back then makes his way to the aide office. He does not think he can sleep now, not yet, not without a familiar man curled against his back. Hamilton lights a short candle, no need to waste a new one, and searches about the table for the exchange order and some pencil to draft the response and declaration.

 

It is not the sound of the door or the feet on the stairs that wakes him, no it is the laugh. He opens his eyes with the sound of a feminine laugh in his ear. Hamilton breathes in sharply and sits up at the desk in the aide–de–camp office. His candle is dark, the wick burned away and some wax dripped down onto the desk. The room is dark though his eyes are mostly adjusted. He cannot tell the time. Then he hears the laugh once more and the click of the back door. Hamilton frowns and stands from the table, shifting his waistcoat back into proper order. He steps out of the office – notices the rear door still closed – and spies the flash of a feminine face and skits upon the stairs being led above by booted feet. His eyes widen as the pair turn around out of sight, not seeing him at all. Hamilton opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He listens for the close of another door upstairs. Then he carefully climbs the steps, avoiding creeks he knows of until he peers around the landing onto the second floor. He sees all three doors closed, quiet. Then Hamilton hears something bump and another feminine giggle unmistakably coming from the smaller bedroom. 

The sound of “shush” and a low voice says, “dear girl – not so – all sleep.”

“Lee,” Hamilton hisses to himself.

Lee has brought a woman into the house. Hamilton gasps suddenly to himself. He realizes he recognized the face of the woman. It was the same woman he spoke to earlier that day, the one asking question of Lee and headquarters.

“Christ,” Hamilton curses under his breath.

He hears a bump against the wall and a gasp that cuts through the silence. Hamilton frowns with a deep sense of personal offense that Lee should flout the hospitality of their headquarters so, especially with General and Lady Washington sleeping close by.

Then the door to the aide bedroom creaks open. Tilghman steps out with a yawn. “Hamilton, what ruckus are you –”

Hamilton crosses the landing in two strides and claps a hand over Tilghman’s mouth. Tilghman’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise but he remains still. A whisper from the girl and the sound of the bed shifting against the floor in the smaller bedroom break the silence again. Tilghman’s brow furrows and his eyes betray his understanding. Hamilton pulls his hand back slowly.

Tilghman’s mouth gapes now. He whispers, “I cannot believe it.”

“I saw her,” Hamilton hisses back.

Tilghman breathes in slowly. “In our General’s house?”

Hamilton nods with the same offense on his face. Tilghman makes no joke now, as he is sometimes want to do, only frowns. They hear muffled noises again, nothing clearly definable but without a doubt an implication of what most men would plan to do bringing a woman to their bedroom late at night.

“We cannot allow it,” Tilghman hisses, gesturing to the closed door.

“Would you knock upon the door now?” Hamilton replies low. “Would you wake the whole house and bring such embarrassment to the General and his wife?”

Tilghman opens his mouth but another sound from the room makes his whisper fall even further. “I would not allow such a disgrace on this house!”

Hamilton looks at the floor, thinks of the few times himself and Laurens have stolen such passions in the same room. They, however, never did so with a full house around as Lee does now; they never dared with anyone else in the house at all, not in this house.

“We can do nothing now,” Hamilton insists in a hush.

Tilghman glares at the door as they hear the unmistakable sounds of two people engaged in nightly entertainments. Tilghman groans quietly in obviously displeasure. “We cannot abide –”

“Hamilton?”

The pair at the aide bedroom door turn to see Laurens standing high on the stairs to the garret. He wears his shirt and hastily adorned breeches. He glances back and forth between Hamilton and Tilghman. Then another bump and a grunt come from the second bedroom, quiet enough but, with the attention of they three, sounds like a gunshot. Laurens’ eyes widen. He points at the door.

Tilghman nods and whispers. “A woman.”

Laurens’ face contorts into an expression of anger, his lips tight and his jaw clenching. He takes another step down obviously about to do what Hamilton cautioned Tilghman against. Hamilton holds up a hand and Laurens stops, staring at him.

’No!’ Hamilton mouths.

Laurens eyes widen and he nods, mouthing back, ’Yes!’

’No!’ Hamilton mouths again, gesturing toward General Washington’s bedroom.

Laurens makes an incredulous noise and gestures to the offending bedroom, ’Exactly!’

“No,” Tilghman finally whispers aloud as a tie break. “It would wake them.”

“You two whispering woke me!” Laurens counters.

Hamilton makes a face. “And were you truly asleep?”

Laurens frowns and does not reply. He looks at the smaller bedroom again, the sounds from within quieter than before and likely more illicit in action.

“How can he dare to –”

“Stop,” Hamilton says, “we can do nothing –”

Suddenly, louder than any of the three aides’ whispers, a woman’s voice from behind the door says, “Do you hear a voice?”

Hamilton pushes Tilghman back into the aide bedroom, flashing a look at Laurens as he sees Laurens hurry back up the stairs on silent bare feet. Then the door to the larger bedroom closes with only a small creak behind Hamilton. He presses his back against the door, Tilghman half draped over him as they both listen against the wood for anything outside. They stand absolutely still, barely breathing, but the door to the next room does not open and they do not hear any more words through the wood. Both men blow our relieved breaths as if they should be the ones worried at being caught.

Tilghman stands up straight again, freeing Hamilton from the door. Hamilton glances at the one occupied bed in the room but Harrison and Meade breathe deep and slow, unaware of the drama so near.

“What should we do,” Tilghman asks drawing Hamilton’s eye, “come morning?”

Hamilton frowns. “I do not know.” Then his expression sours more. “But it shall not happen again.”

 

Some hours later, the sun just rising, Hamilton awakes to the sound of a door closing. He blinks twice as he stares at the wood ceiling, hearing footsteps descending the stairs. Then Hamilton jolts up in bed. Tilghman groans slightly beside him but only curls closer to the wall as Hamilton climbs out of bed. He yanks on his breeches, buttoning them so fast he worries about ripping the cloth. He throws on his waistcoat then pulls on stockings, listening all the while for the sounds of voices or footsteps below. He tries to steps into his boots while buttoning his waistcoat, nearly falling in his failure with the boots. He finally sits back down, yanks both boots up to the detriment of the cuffs of his breeches. Then he stands once more, pulling his coat on and grabbing his cravat; he can tie it on the stairs, probably. 

Hamilton opens the bedroom door, closing it softly behind him. As pulls his cravat around his neck once, he turns around straight into the return of General Lee at the top of the stairs. They stare at each other for two breaths, General Lee without his jacket or boots and waistcoat unbuttoned.

Hamilton finally nods as he continues to tie his cravat. “General Lee.”

Lee clears his throat. “Lieutenant Colonel.”

Hamilton wonders briefly if Lee remembers his name.

“Do you look for something, sir?” Hamilton asks as he finishes the knot of his cravat and drops his hands. “There may be coffee in the kitchens if not food yet quite so early.”

“I had not... well not thought to...”

Hamilton leans forward, hands clasped behind his back, just enough to seem honestly attentive but also perhaps threatening. “Had not thought...?”

Lee frowns. “Just a breath of air.”

“Ah.” Hamilton stands up straight once more. “And your window did not suffice for such air then?” Lee frowns, glancing at his door then back to Hamilton. Hamilton smiles. “Our apologies.” Hamilton cocks his head. “Or was the room in need of an airing as well?”

Lee’s jaw clenches as Hamilton stares at him. Then he makes an unintelligible noise and turns back to his room. He opens the door and his small dog, Spada, appears at once, yapping loudly and jumping around his ankles. Lee looks back in concern at Hamilton then coaxes the dog back into the room with his feet, making hushing noises. “Not now, Spada.”

The door closes and Hamilton frowns instantly. He wonders if Lee intends for the dog to do its business in the same chamber pot as he. The whole room probably reeks of sweat and sex now or dirty dog. Hamilton thinks, almost mournfully, that even should Laurens and he return to that room after Lee’s departure, it may seem less as their own now.

Hamilton turns and continues down stairs just in time to meet Laurens exiting the aide office in a path toward the rear door.

“Hamilton.”

“Laurens.” Hamilton glances at the office. “How long did you wait?”

“An hour.”

Hamilton cocks his head. “I saw Lee.”

Laurens smiles slightly. “And I intend to see his woman.” Hamilton raises his eyebrows, worrying they may have missed her by now, but Laurens shakes his head as he walks to the door. “She lingered some at the open door as Lee returned upstairs. I believe she may have forgotten something.”

Hamilton huffs, following Laurens as he opens the door. “Well, it remains here now.”

The pair of them step out into the cold April morning. A mist hangs over the ground and the dim light gives the surroundings an ethereal look. Hamilton glances about for any sign of the woman. He sees some servants heading toward the stables with buckets in hand. 

Then Laurens calls, “Madam.”

Hamilton turns to where Laurens’ looks near the kitchens. A woman stops just at the corner of the kitchen building, her shawl from the other day wrapped high about her head. She stares back at the two of them and, for a moment, Hamilton thinks she may attempt to run. Then she shifts her weight and turns more toward them. “Sir?”

“A moment?” Laurens asks.

“I should be –”

“But a moment,” Laurens insists.

She stares then walks back toward them, moving slow, her hips swaying in a way, even now knowing her true aim, Hamilton cannot help admiring. Then she stops before them, close enough to reach out and touch.

“And what would you have of me, sir?” she asks, her expression coy enough to know the implications of her words.

“Do not play a game, miss,” Hamilton says, as much for himself as for their intentions.

She raises her eyebrows. “I do not understand you, sir.”

“You do,” Hamilton says.

She grins slowly. “Or perhaps you have your own game you wish to play?”

Hamilton’s eyes widen.

“We do not wish to know more of your intentions or plans or games,” Laurens says, leaning on the last word harshly. “We only must insist that you do not return to this house in any manner, at any hour.”

Her lips pinch for a moment then her eyes lock onto Laurens. She takes a step closer, the shawl slipping down from her hair to pool around her neck, framing her upper body in a beautiful picture Hamilton cannot imagine how she managed with no effort. She touches the lapel of Laurens’ jacket, dancing her finger tips up the path of his buttons. Hamilton instantly wants to smack her hand away.

“Now, sir,” she says, her tone still confident and conspiratorial, “I only wish to please and I suppose we both now know of one General who felt my presence acceptable.”

“Now see here –” Hamilton starts.

She laughs at Hamilton, not mocking as such but certainly a game, a taunt perhaps. Then she pulls her hand up from Laurens’ buttons to touch his cheek. “Do not fuss so, sirs.” She traces a line along Laurens’ jaw that makes Hamilton want to shove her hard and stand resolutely between them. “I may be his lady now,” she continues with a look at Laurens, “but perhaps –”

“No.” Laurens suddenly grips her hand like a snap so she gasps in surprise. “No, you will leave here now. You are not welcome and your subterfuge is an insult to His Excellency, our General, and we do not wish to see you near this headquarters again for any reason.”

She stares at him and does not retort this time. Laurens lets her hand go and she pulls it down close to her side, flexing her fingers once.

“If we should see you again your dalliance will be known and while General Lee may have protection from his rank, you do not. Do you understand?”

She purses her lips tightly and nods. “I understand.”

“Go.”

She huffs angrily, turns on her heel and marches quickly away. She does not look back once. Hamilton shifts and looks up at Laurens. Laurens watches her a moment longer then looks down at Hamilton, clearing his throat.

“Harsh, sir,” Hamilton says with a small smile.

Laurens glances away. “Well, I could not be so with Lee thus it fell to her.”

“Have no fear.” Laurens looks back at Hamilton again. “Lee is aware his affair has not gone unnoticed.” Laurens raises his eyebrows and Hamilton grins back at him. “It shall have to do.”

Laurens nods then sighs. “It seems... they two in there... well, not that we did not...” Laurens laughs once in an odd way. “Only that...”

Hamilton shifts closer so his arm touches Laurens’. “What?”

“Only, it was our room for so long.”

Hamilton smiles, nods once, and touches Laurens’ hand. Laurens squeezes Hamilton’s fingers between his. Hamilton shakes his head. “It is only a room. Nothing more.”

Laurens nods back at him. “Yes.”

“Any room I have with you will be ours for that time,” Hamilton says quietly, Laurens looking at him. “Any place where you sit beside me is ours, any spot where we stand, this grass now. I count them all as ours, be it brief or long. None such as Lee can erase that.”

“Yes.”

Hamilton leans up on his toes enough to briefly press his forehead against Laurens, chaste and safe enough in the early morning mist. Laurens’ smile looks every bit like the words, ’you are mine,’ and the kiss he cannot give Hamilton now.

“While you have my hand in yours,” Hamilton says quietly, “no rooms matter.” Laurens smiles still, his eyes low and his hand squeezing Hamilton’s once more. “I only care to see you smile just like this now for me, just for me.”

Laurens’ eye tick up. “Oh, Alex.”

Hamilton thinks of the early morning sun on Laurens’ hair as he lies beside Hamilton, strands in his face and the first moment of his opening eyes. Now he sees the sun breaking through mist to give the same glow to Laurens’ hair, no window or pillow but instead open air and Laurens is just as beautiful, just as much his.

Hamilton pulls his hand away from Laurens’ and gestures to the house. “Inside then? We may be the first to get a chance at food and will that not be good?”

“Oh yes, tea or coffee for you sir?”

Hamilton chuckles. “I think some eggs, if we be so lucky to have them.”

 

General Lee remains at His Excellency’s headquarters for several days. Spada stays with him, though fortunately closely attached to Lee and rarely finding his way around any of the aides or General Washington or his wife. When Lafayette comes for a meeting with a number of the Generals, taking over the aide office, Spada remains secluded upstairs after Lee fails at a reconciliation.

“His bark is more piercing in the daylight, I think,” Lafayette tells Hamilton.

Hamilton only shakes his head. “And did he bite at you once again?”

Lafayette purses his lips. “If given the chance I could show him better.”

“Bite or bark?”

Lafayette smiles at Hamilton. “I say to him, Êtes–vous un bon chien maintenant? And what do you think?”

“A bark and a bite?”

Lafayette laughs a quick, ’ha.’ “Oh yes, not a good dog.”

“Perhaps you intimidated him. You arrive and he knows he is no longer the most sought after of the room?”

“You flatter me so, Hamilton,” Lafayette says, taking Hamilton’s arm as Hamilton escorts Lafayette to his horse. “And, you are, of course, quite correct.”

Nether Hamilton nor Laurens, or Tilghman for that matter, spy the offending woman after the one night. They keep an eye out, each staying up later than usual, each lying awake longer than they should prefer. However, the woman, nor any other, return to visit the house after hours.

On the day of General Lee’s departure, Hamilton follows behind the servants after they complete the removal of the General’s personal items. He stands in the doorway of the smaller bedroom. The bed is stripped of its sheets, no doubt off somewhere to be washed. A blanket lies folded on top of the dresser. It is not one Hamilton or Laurens used, one more fine and less worn, reserved for any particular guests. Hamilton sees two drawers not quite closed on the dresser but they appear empty from where he stands. He notices some faint scratch marks in the wood of the floor near his feet.

Hamilton makes a wry face for no one to see. “Eager to flee from some noises you disliked, pup?”

“Anything left?”

Hamilton turns to Harrison behind him in the hall. “It appears clear.”

Harrison nods then gestures with the pen in his hand. “You’ll be back in tonight and Tilghman with you.”

Hamilton clicks his teeth, glances at the stairs leading up. “And Laurens?”

“Ah, well, I thought Meade deserving of a chance at his own bed however brief it might be. It appears we may be acquiring a new aide soon.”

Hamilton sighs. “Just saying goodbye to our guest and we shall receive another?”

“A new aide is not a guest.”

Hamilton makes a face. “As long as he stays.”

Harrison nods as he turns for the stairs. “Oh, I doubt any shall outlast Tilghman.”

Hamilton watches him go for a moment then turns back to the room. He sees a dent in the edge of the desk against the wall which he knows Laurens the cause of when he pressed Hamilton too eagerly against it. He sees the marks on the top of the one chair from being wedged beneath the doorknob most nights. He remembers Laurens’ coat on the bed, Hamilton’s breeches on the dresser, an old sketch Laurens made sitting in the window, a handkerchief stuffed in a drawer – Laurens lying on the bed beneath the sheets though they slip low so Hamilton may watch Laurens’ skin reappear at the hip, his body shivering for just a moment before Hamilton moves to pull the blanket over him and press kisses to his lips until Laurens wakes in Hamilton’s arms.

Hamilton shakes his head once then turns away. “Just a room.”

Downstairs, a servant hurries by carrying one of Lee’s crates. In the hall, Laurens crouches low next to the small, wrinkled bulldog of General Lee’s. Hamilton spies Lady Washington through the open door outside on the grass speaking to Lee.

“They are leaving now?”

Laurens looks up, his fingers scratching between the dog’s ears. “Yes. To York while his new house here is arranged. I believe he goes to visit Congress.”

Hamilton nods as he walks closer to Laurens. “Why else visit York?”

“No reason at all.”

“Gentlemen.” Laurens stands up and Hamilton turns around to General Washington exiting his office with Meade. “It is about time General Lee was on his way.” He looks down at the dog then up to Laurens. “And we shall return the dogs.”

“Gladly,” Hamilton says quietly.

“Yes,” General Washington replies, his lips pursed. “And perhaps restore a bit more peace and prestige to our house once more.” He gives Hamilton a pointed look then walks around the dog and down the front steps.

Hamilton wonders for a moment just how much General Washington knows of their guest’s lack of prestige. Perhaps he should not be surprised if His Excellency somehow knows it all.

Outside, Lady Washington stands beside His Excellency, the two of them giving the usual honorifics and thanks and welcomes of return should the General need. It feels oddly like a country house and not an army headquarters at present. Hamilton and Laurens stand in line with Meade and Harrison. Tilghman carries the dreaded Spada behind Edwards as the latter checks some papers.

Hamilton walks over to Tilghman and pats the dog once on the head. “Good boy.” The dog squiggles a bit and tries to lick him. Hamilton thinks of Lafayette saying ’good dog’ and the trouble he received. Perhaps the dog dislikes powdered hair or dinner parties or something else particular to Lafayette. Hamilton frowns. He says, “bon garcon.” The dog growls once and bares its teeth. Hamilton laughs. “Oh I see, bad dog now.” The dog barks again, but cheerfully this time.

Tilghman looks from the dog to Hamilton with a quizzical expression. “It cannot possibly be that he does not like French?”

“Non?” Hamilton says. “Ça ne pouvait pas être?”

The dog’s ears turn back and it growls low once more.

“No,” Tilghman gasps again. “What could a dog know of languages?”

“He knows sounds well enough,” Hamilton says, smiling despite himself.

Tilghman makes an incredulous noise. “Lafayette will be put out.”

“Lafayette will be pleased to know it is not himself in particular but the whole of France.”

Then Edwards looks out of his paperwork and steps up to Tilghman. Tilghman happily hands off the French hating dog then follows Hamilton back to their places with the other aids. 

Laurens turns his head to Hamilton as he stands beside Laurens once more. “Saying a fond farewell to your favorite dog?”

“Of course, must stay on good terms.”

General Lee mounts his horse in front of them, touching his hat to General Washington and Lady Washington. He glances back at the line of aides and nods at them too.

“Thank you all a pleasant stay for myself and the boys.” He gestures at the dogs all clustered into one of the carts now, Spada sitting with Edwards. “They had a grand time, so much space to run.”

“A pleasure to have you,” Lady Washington says.

Lee laughs once. “Oh yes, ripping good time.”

Hamilton hears Laurens blow out a breath, his only sign of annoyance. On his other side, Hamilton sees Tilghman staring at Spada while Meade’s face appears pleasant and calm, though behind his back Hamilton sees his fingers tapping impatiently. Hamilton decides to be reckless.

“We hope York will be to your liking, General,” Hamilton says, drawing Lee’s eye. Hamilton smiles at him, putting all the feeling and private knowledge into the expression. “We hope it has as many pleasures and amusements to your liking as you were able to find here.”

Lee’s lip curls for a moment – obviously not missing Hamilton’s meaning – then he turns ahead once more. “We must be off, farewell.” Then he kicks the horse’s sides and the whole party trots away, the dogs barking at the bumps in the road.

“Hamilton,” Tilghman hisses. “You should not.”

Hamilton gives the man an innocent look. “What? I do wish him well.”

Tilghman sighs again. “We may jest in our own office among just we aides, but I cannot jest at his manners and I hope you do not encourage him.”

“Oh,” Hamilton says, “neither do I. I rather hope I put him off far more.”

"And just what do you three whisper about?" Meade asks, poking his head over Tilghman’s shoulder.

Tilghman glances down at him. "Oh Meade, you slept through a comedy of errors. I shall tell you quickly." Tilghman pulls Meade along to the side of the house, his voice dropping low.

“I thought it well said,” Laurens says as Harrison, His Excellency and Lady Washington turn to walk back into the house. “Better he knows he does not go unseen.”

Hamilton nods. “In need of reminding.”

“And he will be back at camp likely before we leave and, no doubt, join many a future meeting of Generals.”

“Exactly.”

Laurens gives Hamilton a look. “You do not worry he may remember you and turn his memory into a slight?”

Hamilton shakes his head. “I imagine he must have larger enemies than I at present.”

Laurens lingers back for a moment, ostentatiously to watch Lee and his party ride off as the rest of the staff return into the house. Hamilton waits beside him, the air colder than the days past, more reminiscent of the month gone with snow still on the ground.

“I am to the smaller bedroom,” Hamilton says, “Tilghman with me.”

“Ah ha.”

“And you remain alone.”

Laurens turns his head to Hamilton. “Not alone, merely my own cot.”

“Hmm.” Hamilton smiles. “Should you say something about me at your side means you are not alone or something else about your thoughts being with me even as you lie on your own?”

Laurens smiles back at him. “I could say these things.”

“But you shall not?”

“When you say them so finely for me? I would not try to best you.”

“Ha.” Hamilton shakes his head. “If you wish me to be your poet now I could do far better than that.” He purses his lips in thought then steps closer to Laurens. “I would say instead that even if you should lie alone at night, your body bare to only yourself, that you may rest there knowing that my hands still touch you, and my lips still kiss you because I will lie just a floor below, thinking of you, the beauty of your face, the feeling of your skin and movement of your body under or over me and though we may not have each night, no separation of rooms will ultimately keep you from my hands and kiss.”

Laurens breathes in slowly, smiles shy and gorgeous, tipping his head down as he looks at the grass, his hat hiding some of his eyes at the angle. Hamilton wishes for a portrait in his pocket of Laurens just like this, Laurens’ charmed smile which Hamilton causes which no one else would truly understand.

“I would also say that none of us are alone in so busy a house.”

Laurens laughs suddenly with surprise and looks at Hamilton again. “At least now we shall have less dogs and midnight guests.”

Hamilton nods back. “I do hope so, my John.”

The two of them walk back to the house, Tilghman’s head appearing at the door, saying something about catching up on their correspondence, Harrison also remarking on supply lists while Meade steps out holding mugs of coffee. Hamilton grips Laurens’ arm and pulls him along back to the house, no new Generals, no dogs within, and perhaps not their own room, but still a place where they may be together.

**Author's Note:**

> This series is in the process of becoming a book, to keep up with the progress check out the book website [Duty and Inclination](https://www.dutyandinclination.com/) and my author [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/DupontWrites).


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